Devilishly Divine
by Scilja
Summary: My professional job: to kick butt and swipe stuff from under your nose.  My personal job: to crack the stone heart of one dark man and ultimately redeem him back to life.  Multitasking ninja princess extraordinaire, at your service.  Yuffentine.
1. Prologue

DISCLAIMER: Final Fantasy VII characters belong to Square Enix. Only the ideas contained within this story are my property. No profit is being earned from this.

Devilishly Divine

By Scilja

Prologue

* * *

Crystals showered down to join the dark red liquid soaking the thick burgundy carpet. 

That was the fifth glass broken this month.

Vincent doubled over in the velvet chair, hands clutched at the temples and teeth grit  
as another splitting migraine shot through him.

The clock ticked by until his ragged breathing gradually steadied and his heart rate  
slowed from its rapid thundering. With a resigned sigh, he slumped back in his seat.  
Ten minutes, the clock told him.

It started with a tingling, an itching in his nerves building to fevered blood. Days  
later the room tilt, his equilibrium torn, and breath choked in strangled gasps. When  
Chaos departed, it felt as if a large weight had been lifted from his shoulders, the  
heavy chains of a remorseful past released. Things should have been better then, but  
it all came crashing down like a scale tipped too far.

Chaos contradicted his own namesake. The demon had been the main balancing  
thread which kept the other three demons in line. The absence of the powerful demon  
gave them the opportunity to act rashly, including frequent attempts to achieve their  
own liberation.

Being a host to three demons certainly has its downsides.

He had been able to constrain the demons for the most part but he knew it would not  
last. He could feel their growing strength, their actions became more dangerously  
reckless and imprisonment only increased their hastiness. They wanted out and they  
wanted it soon.

Nearly six months since Chaos left, chastising the demons came to be a daily routine  
and entailed a great deal of his mentality to rein them in. The incidences initially  
brought on the occasional mild headache that developed into mind-blowing migraines  
which usually left him haggard and drained.

His fists clenched in frustration knowing he would not be able to stand against them if  
this continued. Even worse, he did not know of the outcome by chance they  
overpowered him and he no longer had the control to prevent whatever havoc and  
mayhem may occur.

"Three against one is entirely unfair, don't you think?"

Cerberus whipped out instinctively as he scanned the room to identify the body to the  
voice. "Come out."

"Relax, Valentine, if I was here to kill you it would only be a foolish act on my part  
since you're immortal. I don't particularly feel like exerting much effort either."

The gun aimed pointedly at the man emerging from the shadows. "This is not a social  
call," he said.

His visitor smiled, a surface disguise he sensed hid a darker aura. "Ah, sharp in  
thought as well." The figure moved across the floor in a fluid manner before he settled  
into the chair in front of him.

Vincent narrowed his eyes, a foreboding vibe crawled along his skin. "You're not  
human."

"Perceptive." The man raised a leg to rest atop his knee and laid an elbow against an  
armrest. "Tolefin. A demon. More specifically, an eidolon."

"A demon cannot be a ghost."

"True, but that does not mean they cannot take the form of one. Consider it a method  
of communication," Tolefin said, his fingers waggled nonchalantly. "Pity, I thought  
Chaos would have mentioned this. Tricky demon."

He instantly straightened, alert overpowering the hazy aftereffects of his demonic  
assault. This man already knew far too much for his liking. "How do you know  
Chaos?"

"Demons are not solitary creatures, Valentine. We are aware of our own kind and do  
associate with each other." As if to prove his otherworldliness, Tolefin snapped a  
martini from the air and tipped it towards him in a sly gesture. "I could further  
divulge you of the demon network but it would diverge from my original purpose."

He scowled at the entity, one hand sorely tempted to pull at the trigger and send his  
form back to the dark dimension. He had already spent more than half his life dealing  
with demons and did not want any more to do with them. Demons never brought  
good news. "I have no intention to partake in whatever you propose."

"You should listen before you speak for it is rather beneficial towards you, especially  
where it concerns Behemoth, Death Gigas, and Hellmasker."

His grip on the revolver tightened. No-one, aside from the members of Avalanche,  
knew about the four occupants he contained and he had been highly cautious upon  
revealing them since the reconstruction of the Kalm. Peace had no place for darkness.  
Yet each time the eidolon spoke, he posed an increasing threat.

"The three desire freedom. I can sense their restlessness emanating from you. While I  
certainly applaud your endurance and will at hosting four demons for decades,  
nothing lasts forever. Merging with Chaos provided a sort of stability for your  
control. Now that Chaos has returned to the Dark Echelon, you have lost some hold  
on their influence. It would only be a short time before they will possess your entire  
being and use it as their own. Only those who have dark powers can act."

"What part do I have if I have no dark powers?"

"Fortunately, I do. I am fully capable of restraining the three. Of course, I'm not  
limited to simply that. I am also able of ridding them from you permanently."

Beyond the throaty voice and glinting yellow orbs, he lowered the gun and eyed the  
grinning man incredulously. He had waited for this chance for too long. Far too  
long. Whether it was fate or a twisted coincidence, nothing screamed louder than a  
tempting opportunity presenting itself.

"What is your proposal?"

Tolefin gave a wicked gleam in his eyes as he sipped his drink, obviously pleased he  
changed his mind. "Currently, I do not have enough power to generate such a  
complex task. To do so, I require a certain orb that amplifies the Dark Powers of the  
beholder. The whereabouts, to my dismay, is unknown as it has been lost for a  
century."

"You want me to find it," Vincent realized.

"Seek the Pavuloek talisman to acquire the orb. Retrieve it and I will dispel your  
demons. You will be freed from the monsters that haunt your past and linger in your  
nightmares. No more pondering about being a threat to others. Atonement will be  
closer and reconciliation sweeter." Tolefin leaned closer, his grin more devious than  
the last. "Do we have a deal?"

Demons always came with a price. Nothing was free and he had the scars to live  
by it. As a host, he had surrendered countless periods of sanity and individuality.  
In exchange for enhanced demonic abilities, his body paid the sacrifice. Time ran  
precariously grave and the situation ultimately turned into one of life or death.

He had no choice. In a downward flick of his head, he made his decision.

The eidolon bowed, his smile not once wavered. "Until then, farewell." In a rising  
murky cloud, he was gone.

As the smoke dissipated, Vincent was left with the sinister feeling he had sold his  
soul to the devil.

- - - - - - -

"Great Leviathan, karma's come back to kick me in the ass," I muttered, riffling  
through boxes containing random supplies and personal belongings in dire search of  
my cell phone.

Due to my natural obsession of being a pack-rat, I had the tendency to carry more  
items than necessary. Better to have it and need it than need it than not have it, I  
always say.

I let out an angry huff when I came up unsuccessful from the third box and cursed  
my genes. While I was a born genius at taking things without batting an eye, I did  
not have the complimenting gift to be a neat freak. So as my collection grew, the  
mess spread. Funny thing though, I have an incredible memory, ideal at keeping tabs  
on blackmail material which had proven successful against Cid on Shera, and  
particularly useful in tracking objects amongst the clutter.

Thus I had the right to spazz out when I could not find something I supposedly had.

"Yuffie?" The chimes and muffled voice from the floor below told me my building  
buddy returned.

"Up here!" I yelled, hopefully loud enough to sound through the jumble.

Footsteps thudded louder up the stairs in approaching the door. "Yuffie, do I have  
the best news for you or what! I – Heavens above, what God did you anger here?"

I poked my head out from my crouched position under the wooden bureau to catch  
her aghast at the room's condition. "I just got my stuff in four days ago, Dee. Cut  
me some slack."

"Slack and you don't go, doll, or you'll end up wallowing in your own filth," she  
said, nose scrunched as she carefully made her way to me. "This place wasn't so bad  
yesterday. What happened?"

"I can't find my stupid cell," I grumbled, placing my hands on the table to hoist  
myself to a standing position.

A month ago, I decided WRO, also known as World Restoration Organization, didn't  
cut it for me anymore since things in Midgar began to settle. Not wanting to be stuck  
at a desk job, I packed my things and zipped to Costa Del Sol, bumped into a place  
for rent, and called myself a professional Seeker. This way I could keep my ninja  
skills up and about and earn a nice profit in the making.

Darcy, or Dee as I called her, took the position of my landlady and bookkeeper to the  
quaint library below. It housed the oldest of old books, scriptures, and historical  
records relating to myths, legends, and theories cooked up by writers who had either  
gone mad at some point in their life or missed out on the break of day. Her patrons  
came in the wildest bunch, ranging from the crazed fantasy fanatic to the eccentric  
scholar. The woman's appearance went far from the typical librarian with her fair  
skin, trim figure and sea-green eyes, although I like to think her snowy white hair  
resulted from having to deal with the paranormal on a daily basis, clients included.

I turned to look at said librarian and raised a brow at her chewing her bottom lip, a  
bad habit I discovered occurred whenever she felt guilty or nervous. "Shoot," Dee  
cursed and quickly dug through her pockets. "I'm so sorry, Yuffs, I heard it ring this  
morning and since you were out I took a call for you. Must've forgotten to return it."  
She stilled, eyes widened as if a light went on. "Yes, that's it! You got your first  
potential client!"

My hand shot up to catch the cell phone thrown at me as I gaped back at her.  
"You're kidding."

"Nope." She clapped happily, bouncing on her heels. "I told you that online ad would  
do you justice!"

"But Dee, look at all this!" I said as my arm whipped out in an irate fashion. "I  
wasn't expecting a case for another two days at least. I don't even have an official  
sign up yet!"

She psshaed me with a flick of her hand. "It's no big deal, doll. You got most of the  
office set up already. Everything else you can finish off in an hour or so."

To confirm her declaration, I skimmed across the room, spotting the all-in-one  
telephone, fax, and printer, a water cooler/heater and a coffee maker to counter it,  
a high-tech computer atop the desk compliments of Reeve, a bookshelf against the  
wall, and metal filing cabinets in the corner. In the middle of the room situated a  
round coffee table surrounded by plush seats for discussion. Simple and practical was  
my motto. The remainder in the boxes held a few decors to spiff up the room along  
with documents concerning my previous work with WRO and books on Materia and  
weapons.

"I'll believe you this time." I checked my phone for messages before pocketing it.  
"News sure spreads fast in this town. It's been only two days since I put it up on the  
Net and already I get a client. Not bad."

Dee gave a lopsided shrug and popped a caramel taffy into her mouth. "Guess people  
lose stuff fast here."

"That's gold to me," I said and went to stack up the empty bookshelf. "Did he or she  
mention about meeting?"

"Sure. He said around three today."

I turned to her so fast I nearly dropped the books. "Three? That's thirty minutes  
from now!"

She glanced at her watch and nodded. "Yeah, sounds about right."

As much as I like this girl, sometimes I wanted to give her a good shake.

"Did he mention anything else?" I asked, looking at her pointedly.

"Not really. I guess he's saving it for the meeting," she replied, the words a bit  
muffled from her simultaneous chewing. "Although I gotta tell ya, Yuffs, he had the  
most delish voice. The kind you hear roll out from the tortured hero in moments of  
fiery passion. Turned me into a big puddle of drool, all wet and happy."

My mouth quirked upwards as I shook my head. "All that fantasy has finally mushed  
your brain into delirium."

"You wouldn't mind being in this one." She ambled over to the desk and propped a  
hip against the edge. "When you hear him you'll know exactly what I've been  
through."

"I don't drool."

"A puddle of goo then. You can't tell me a healthy, twenty-one year old female  
doesn't experience desires and urges."

I mentally groaned. Dee, with all her naive heart and blunt words, occasionally took  
it upon herself to fix my love life or rather lack of it. While I have skillfully avoided  
blind dates and club-hopping, I had no such luck when it came to Cupid Dee's  
lovelorn lectures.

"Of course I do! I desire the triple-decker, mint chocolate fudge from Labelle's."

She pouted, "That's…not the same," and sighed the Yuffie-is-a-hopeless-kook sigh.  
"When was the last time you got laid?"

"You make it sound like I'm sex deprived," I said, leveling the books from tallest to  
shortest.

"Aren't you?"

"What exactly does that have to do with anything? I don't need sex to have a love life."

"Better than nothing," she quipped, reached for the candy bowl sitting at the corner  
of my desk and unwrapped a peppermint. "Maybe your client can help you out."

"I think it's supposed to be the other way around."

"I meant help you with your love life. If he looks as good as he sounds, jump him."

I gave an unladylike snort. "There are so many things wrong with that sentence.  
First, I don't do work relationships. Second, voice and looks have proven not to go  
together, like the cross-eyed chick with the man voice who came in your shop last  
week. And third, it's a quarter to three and I'm in a hurry to look pro."

To my relief, Dee gave one last resigned sigh and hopped off the table. "Need any  
help?"

"No thanks," I did a little finger wave, "bring him up when he arrives, okay?"

"Should I tell him to strip before or after he goes upstairs?"

She skillfully dodged a flying book and descended the stairs laughing.

I jumped when I felt my left pocket vibrate and realized I got a call on my PHS. I'll  
never get used to this vibrating technology. Honestly, it's like a dirty toy in disguise.

"Kisagari's Road Kill. You smash 'em, we trash 'em!"

"Fuck girl, can't you say some normal shit for once?"

My lips pulled back into a wide grin at the familiar gruff voice. "And miss out on  
ruining your day? No chance in hell, Smokey."

He mumbled something along the lines of little girls bitching to his grave then  
grunted, almost in exasperation. "How's it going, kid?"

Cid Highwind, royal-pain-in-the-neck chain smoker who got picked up by Cloud  
some time during the Sephiroth era and later became appointed as our main source  
of transportation. I worked with him, Barrett, and Reeve back in WRO. Aside  
from maintaining the main system ports at WRO, he trains other aspiring pilots under  
his own academy. How the recruits stand the cloud of smoke and colorful language  
five days a week, eight hours a day without pissing their pants is something they  
definitely deserve credit for.

"I found out I need to get laid."

He let out a series of mixed expletives and coughs at the other end of the line. "Shit,  
man, I'm not a fucking sex therapist."

"No, but it's fun to hear you squirm," I said, holding back a laugh.

"Next time I ain't callin' ya."

"Aw, you don't really mean that. As much as I know you love to hear my problems  
in bed" – another curse – "what did you call for?"

I heard him make a small "Hn" and mentally pictured him smirking, full of masculine  
pride. "Got your bike ready."

I might have pierced his eardrums from the loud, high-pitched squeal I shrieked into  
the phone. "Thank you thank you thank you! God, Highwind, I'd kiss your ugly mug  
if it didn't stink of smoke."

"Shera'd beat you off with a stick, girlie," he said, "I'll drop it off tomorrow. You  
still at that sunny place?"

"Sure am."

"Burn in heat, kid."

I smiled at the softness behind the rough exterior. "Suck tar, Old man."

At the signaled beep ending transmission, I scrambled to get any last minute bearings  
together – another way of saying I dumped it all in my room, turned on the coffee  
maker, and laid out official looking spreadsheets on the table. Ten minutes later, I  
heard the distinct chimes of the shop door open.

Sixty seconds passed and no client. I rolled my eyes. Whoever he was must be quite  
a looker considering Dee liked to keep attractive men lingering. Then I heard a low  
voice speak, smooth and deep, which I admit made me forget the two minutes that  
went by, followed by a light giggle from my friend. Charming.

"It's a good thing you were able to find this place even without the sign up. It's  
pretty new but open for business nonetheless." Two knocks rapped on wood as the  
door swung open and she ushered my client inside. "Here you are, sir."

The wheels of my chair swiveled back as I got up and rounded my desk, hand  
outstretched for a salutatory shake. "Welcome. My name is –"

"Yuffie."

My eyes bugged out and my jaw went slack to imitate a gaping fish at the sight of the  
man who stepped into view. I had to force my knees to keep from buckling for  
nothing could prepare me for the person standing before me. Sans the cloak and metal  
claw, the long hair, red eyes, and pale skin could not be mistaken. "Vincent?"

I prided in the fact my voice did not squeak.

Aside from me, Dee resembled a bird, darting her head between Vincent and me.  
"Woah, you know Tall-Dark-and-Handsome?"

A small leer sent Dee's direction ceased further curiosity. With a zipping motion  
across her lips she made her exit, but not without a thumbs up and wide grin. I  
resisted the need to throw another book and shifted my attention to Tall-Dark-and-  
Handsome.

His aura had my feet seemed frozen under his piercing gaze. No matter how many  
times I came across those eyes I could not escape its grasp. Never been one to let a  
chance go, I allowed myself a good look over at the man who I had not seen in  
nearly half a year.

Rarely did Vincent wear casual so I drank in the image like an appetizer. Donned in a  
heavy cloak and gold metal, he exuded dark and mysterious. In a black dress shirt  
and slacks, he dressed to kill hearts everywhere. His hair still lengthy, albeit a smidge  
longer but carried the same untamed nature. At eternally twenty-seven years, he  
made immortality appealing.

In haste I gave myself a mental smack, reminding myself he came as a client and not a  
fanciful reunion. "Mr. Valentine." I entered into full business mode and gestured  
across the room. "Please, take a seat."

He looked at me for a few seconds longer than I thought he would before walking  
over to the offered chair. "I did not know you became a Seeker."

"I needed a change of air from WRO," I said, "it became more paperwork and not  
enough action. I decided my skills would come in handy as a Seeker so I went for it."  
I reached for a glass from a nearby shelf, peeked into it to check for dust and gestured  
towards him. "Coffee?"

A simple nod came his response. Somehow I thought he would be less withdrawn  
given the whole separation from Chaos incident, but I guess some things never  
change. "How do you like it?" I asked.

"Black."

Fitting.

I set the steaming drink in front of him and took my seat. "I'm going to go ahead and  
say you need to find something."

Vincent gave me a seemingly blank which, in all the instances I met his wordless  
expressions, blatantly meant 'Duh'. I always was good at pointing out the obvious.

"Right," I cleared my throat, "what are we looking for?"

"The Pavuloek talisman," he said.

My brow rose at that. "A talisman? No offense, Vince, but you don't really strike me  
as a relic hunter. You're more like the bang-bang-shoot-em-up type."

He crossed his arms. I helped myself to admire the strength peeking through the  
rolled sleeves of his shirt. "The talisman leads to what I need to attain."

"So it's two things," I remarked and scribbled a record based on the information  
given. "Do you know where it might be?"

"No."

"Have you made recent contact with it?"

"I have never encountered it."

"Anything you know about it? Background history and all."

"That is something I need to know as well."

I touched the end of my pen to the corner of my mouth. "Tell me if I heard right," I  
said. "You're in search of this Pavuloek talisman. Possible locations are moot. No  
previous association has been made. And you don't have any clue about its location  
or history."

"Yes," he said, a slight frown on his face.

"Is it safe to say you don't know what it looks like either?"

His glower deepened. I shared in his dissatisfaction at the vagueness of it all with an  
inward cringe.

My first case was not meant to be this complex. Glancing at the blank record taunting  
back at me, determination welled in me to make it work. Kisaragis do not back down  
from a challenge. "I'll do it."

Vincent raised his head, gaze hardened and firm. "You are certain?"

"Positive," I answered, reeling in adrenaline rush. "Gathering information and objects  
are my forte. I am one of the greatest ninjas, after all, and the best won't take any  
less."

The furrow in his brow eased a bit, indicating neutrality in Vincent terms.

"Where are you staying now?" I asked.

"The Costa Inn."

"Good. Distance won't be a problem then."

"Problem?"

"To keep you informed of the progress, of course."

"I intend to be actively involved in this case."

I shook my head. "I work best alone. Espionage calls for concentration and stealth  
and going solo works it."

"It will go faster with two."

"You have a time limit?"

"In a way."

From his rigid posture, I knew further refusal went over and out. I demonstrated  
successful achievements in performing operations without accompaniment in several  
occasions. Having someone tag along involved a major change in plans.

I fixed my eyes on the man facing me. Vincent, on the other hand, was not just  
someone. Perhaps this time I could make an exception.

"Alright, you're in," I finally consented. "But I lay down the borders, no going  
around about it. Agreed?"

He shot me a look. "Agreed."

I wish someone told me presuming too much overly jinxes it.

TBC…


	2. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: Final Fantasy VII characters belong to Square Enix. Only the ideas  
contained within this story are my property. No profit is being earned from this.

Devilishly Divine

By Scilja

Chapter One

* * *

The remainder of the day following my first sketchy, albeit annoyingly interesting,  
Seeker case involved the random exploration of the virtual world. As WRO's ex-info  
master collector, that should not have been too hard a task to perform. 

Too bad I suck at guessing.

Three hours later as I blinked away the eye strain from sitting too close to the  
computer screen, I came to the conclusion that the Pavuloek talisman was either a  
fictional creation or an imitation of some cheap jewelry.

By next morning, I had riffled through the contact numbers of my landlady's unique  
clientele and, after a bit of prodding from Cupid Dee, walked down the streets  
juggling a box of donuts in one hand while deciphering a poorly drawn napkin map  
in the other.

Afternoons in Costa del Sol made you feel like cooked lobster. I adored the  
mornings when the sun shone bright enough not to burn but put a spotlight on  
everything. If a light shower drizzled before sunrise, you'd get a glimpse of what  
heaven looks like. Sparkles galore.

It had been twenty minutes since I started my trek and I already began to feel the  
heat from the waking sun. At times like these, I desperately wished I had my bike.  
Well, actually ex-hover-scooter upgraded to hover bike. A scooter just doesn't cut it  
for a ninja, a declaration I had whined to Cid at one point who grudgingly agreed to  
take it up a notch. On the plus side, a bike meant revved up engine, and I am  
practically skipping in anticipation at the mere thought of it.

I took a good look at my surroundings and my nose scrunched, not in distaste, but to  
draw out my breathing. The scrap buildings and grey monotone wash brought about  
an odd stench I did not bother to distinguish. It even overpowered the scent of my  
freshly baked donuts.

A quick glance at the map and I realized I was a few blocks away from reaching my  
destination. My pace increased, a hard feat to do as you're stilling your breath, until I  
reached a concrete flat with peeling tawny paint. Bad enough the structure looked  
miserable, the yellow made it look morbid.

"413 Rutter Drive," I noted, regarding the house number "43" and the address I read.  
"What happened to the '1'?"

The wooden stairs creaked as I marched up to the porch. Indeed, I found myself at  
413, only the "1" was etched with a thin black marker instead of resembling its  
wooden partners. Behold, the economically creative.

I rang the doorbell then took a step back to avoid getting smacked when the door  
swung out, a lesson I learned after being acquainted with several doors in this town.  
I think the builders secretly delighted in playing some sick joke on tourists or new  
faces. Costa del Sol: the hottest place to be – even our doors have attitude.

When I heard no noise from inside, I rang the bell again and accompanied it with a  
couple of knocks. Nothing. I pushed the bell harder and longer so the sound droned  
like a shrill trill and jabbed at it repeatedly.

My efforts proved successful from a loud thud, trailed by a combined chain of curses  
and rattles. The many locks on the door clicked and opened to a lanky man, a face so  
oily I almost had to squint from the light bouncing off of his forehead.

I plastered on the typical friendly-neighbor-smile. "Morning."

He leered at me behind inch thick glasses. "What's your problem?"

"Are you Wade?" I asked.

"What about it?"

"I'm told you're the guy who collects jewelry and sells them off."

Wade inhaled loudly. "Jewelry? I don't do that girly crap. I do relics and antiques."  
He quirked a hairy brow at me. "You lookin' fer business?"

"Depends what you got," I said.

His eyes fixated on the box in my arms. "Donuts?"

I grinned. "Sugar frosted fruit filling jelly. Limited edition. Baker's dozen."

He gave me a long stare before finally saying, "Come in".

Junkies – the cheapest prime scout for anything you want to know about the bad, the  
ugly, and the hushed.

The door closed behind me as I stepped into a dimly lit apartment decked with  
furniture clearly meant only for its use and not means of decor. At least the outside  
smell did not match the interior to which I gave a deep breath of much needed relief.

"Upstairs," Wade informed and led me to a bland room with a computer in one  
corner, a bed, and a table littered with boxes, shipping papers, and tracking records.  
On the other side of the room, I couldn't help but stare at the carefully stacked  
collection of ornaments and trinkets lining the shelves.

"Nice, eh?" he said, nodding towards them. "That's just the small stuff. If you want  
the bigger ones, I got 'em in another room."

Shiny things attracted me, hence my obsession with materia. The ornaments ranged in  
various shapes and sizes, each one carefully polished to pristine condition and laid out  
proudly in display. Each gem refracted light in an eye catching display of  
multicolored prisms.

"Pretty high class," I said, impressed. "How much do these go for?"

"Twenty five to forty thousand gil."

I let out a low whistle. "I got maxxed out materia that costs less than that. Is that  
why you do it? For the cash?"

"Damn right. People will pay their houses for junk like these. All I gotta do is find it,  
get it, and sell it."

"How do you showcase your merchandise?"

His hand made a slap-dash gesture towards the computer. "Online auction. It's a  
freakin' gold mine on there. You won't believe the crap you'll find. Most of the  
stuff I find is attic junk or family heirlooms. Good thing they don't know what  
they're losin'."

"You must be good at it."

"It's all about the timing. If you ain't there at the last second, poof! Goner. Gotta  
act fast."

"Duly noted," I said, transfixed at a particularly round brooch with an opal in the  
centre.

"So whacha lookin' for?"

The question snapped me away from the display cases and I turned to meet his eye.  
"The Pavuloek talisman."

"Say what?"

"Pavuloek."

"You sure you sayin' it right?"

Miffed, I put my hands on my hips. "I didn't come here for a language lesson, I  
came to see if you have it."

"Yeah, yeah, take a chill pill," Wade muttered as he walked over to his computer.

"Have you seen it before?"

"Don't recall the name. I haven't sold many talismans, three maybe. Not very  
popular." His fingers flew across the keyboard and a number of clicks later, he  
ushered me over. "Here, take a look."

I hunkered down to see a picture of a rhombus-shaped bronze amulet with swirls and  
lines etched deeply into the metal. To the right side of the image included a detailed  
description of the object, the auction specifications, and buyer information. "What is  
that?"

"Ferraden amulet. Sold for 48,000 gil."

"An amulet?"

"Most talismans come in either amulet or charm form. Does it look like this?"

"More circular, I'd say."

He tapped a key. "Like this?" The next object appeared more oval than circle, amber  
stones set around the border to a jade square.

"Quarduvea charm," I read through the summary and shook my head, "not it."

"Last one," he informed, popping up an aquamarine jewel atop a silver half-dome.  
"Ettellos amulet."

I stilled my hands to resist the urge of pulling my hair out. It seemed dead ends  
would be quite frequent in this investigation. I made a note to myself to buy the  
most chocolatey, heart-attack inducing sweet from Labelle's. My Yuffie meter  
needed a serious boost.

I gave a sigh as I straightened up. "Looks like you don't got it, bud. I ought to be  
taking back half of those donuts and –" For some odd reason, the screen called to me  
and my eyes took on a track of its own. My gaze widened upon hitting a particular  
icon, causing my finger to shoot out and point wildly. "There! Go there! Click it!"

"Easy, easy!" Wade shooed away my insistent fingers and opened the file. "Paublock  
pendant? That the one you want?"

What came on the screen made me too preoccupied to answer him because something  
inside me jolted. Not quite like a shock of lightning, but like a smack. "Paublock," I  
whispered to myself at a rhombic prism garnet so red it was almost black. Suddenly  
the images I had skimmed across during my virtual search amplified in my mind and  
flashed like a signal flare. Holy Shiva, I found it. I whirled to face Wade. "I want that."

"That's not a talisman," he said, brows drawn together.

"It's the Pavuloek talisman. I'm sure of it. Probably an incorrect spelling on  
someone's part but that's definitely the one."

"Good news fer ya," he replied, "bad news is I don't got it no more."

My entire body came to a standstill. "You sold it?"

I felt my heart drop at his nod. "Sorry."

"To who?"

His hands made sweeping motions from side to side. "No can do. Confidential  
and personal."

"I'm taking back those donuts."

"Sheesh, give a guy his balls, will 'ya?"

"All thirteen of them."

"Hey now, you listen here –"

"I'll stomp on them until the fruit squishes and the jam oozes and the white frosting  
blackens."

"Check Thurr's Pawn," he surrendered with a grumble, "here's the address," he  
scribbled hastily on scrap paper and shoved it into my hand, "now get, you donut  
sadist."

- - - - - - -

Once Wade kicked me out of his apartment and safely guarded his precious donuts,  
I decided to take the chance to check out this "Thurr's". Luckily for me, it turned out  
to be just around the corner from Wade's. Junkies really know how to be resourceful  
within short-range distance.

I pushed open the glass door and stepped into a shop that had more stuff than room to  
move around in. Towers of household appliances, furniture and electronics surrounded  
me in every direction that I had to keep my arms rigid by my side to avoid knocking  
anything over while I squeezed through the narrow tiled floor, hoping to reach the  
cashier or a store clerk.

The tiles eventually lead to a glass counter in the very back of the room. An empty  
glass counter. I looked around for a bell or a button I could push to signal for service  
when my gaze landed on a stuffed iguana sitting near the ledge.

"Wow, you don't see too much taxidermy nowadays," I said in awe, reaching out to  
grasp it, "I wonder how much this cost – _Yipes!_"

My hand made a rapid retreat as the supposedly stuffed iguana came to life and  
snapped at the air where my fingers would have been food. Two beady eyes blinked  
back at me, tongue flicking out as if in a taunting gesture.

"Cheeky little bugger, this one," I muttered under my breath and sidestepped in case  
the lizard would consider other parts of me edible.

"Can I help you?"

I turned to see a middle-aged woman with an odd tilt to her eyes emerge from one of  
the junk heaps. "I think your lizard's hungry," I pointed out.

"Izzy is always hungry," she stated, patting the iguana on the back to which he hissed  
in response. "Did you need something?"

"I'm looking for some jewelry."

"We don't carry much of those," she remarked, stooping down to open the shelves  
below her. "But here are the few we do have."

The shopkeeper placed a small glass display case on the countertop. I peered down,  
eyeing each jewelry in search for a certain red pendant. My shoulders slumped upon  
the last piece resembling a gold leaf. "Do you have any more by any chance?"

"I told you I didn't have much." She went to return the case. "What is it you want in  
particular?"

"A rhombus shaped garnet pendant."

She slowly turned to me. "How do you know about that?"

"Wade mentioned you might have it."

"That oil-slicked bum?" she scoffed, "he gave it to me because of poor online sales.  
Had a hard time selling it here too. No one likes dark jewelry."

"Do you still have it?"

"Nope. Sold it to a shmuck for two hundred gil. Good thing he was so desperate to  
have it. Doubled the profit."

"Lady, you have got to tell me who you sold it to," I urged. "I really, really would  
like to have it."

Wrinkles ran across her forehead. "Is dark jewelry in now?" She tilt her head to the  
side, making her slanted eyes more angled. "I'm sorry, I can't help you. Customer  
confidentiality."

Jumping Ifrit, this whole client privacy thing was driving me up the wall.

I put on my best pleading face, pouty lips and glistening eyes. "Please, my  
grandmother got diagnosed with an incurable disease last week and she's only got  
three, four days tops. As her final request, she asked from me a dark jewel, you  
know, to go with her funeral garb. Do you want to be responsible for denying an  
old woman her dying beauty wish? Can you stand the guilt?" I leaned in close  
dramatically. "Can you?"

My fabulous acting proved to be working when a teary sheen glazed her eyes and she  
sniffled. "I-I would if I could, but I can't. I really can't."

_Huuuurraaack! Haaaaaawwwwrr!_

Both the store clerk and I jumped when Izzy opened his mouth wide and started to  
shriek ghastly noises. She rushed over to closely examine inside the throat of the  
wheezing reptile.

"Izzy! How many times do I have to tell you not to eat grapes!" she scolded,  
wrapping both arms around his belly to carry him. "I'm sorry, I'm going to have to  
close the shop and take him to the vet to barf it out." She gestured for me to walk  
ahead of her.

I purposely slowed my walk in attempt to fit in another persuasion. "But I need to  
know who you sold it to! If you do, my grandmother would recognize you as one  
of her own!"

She shook her head. "Sorry, no… I'm in a hurry to go. Kindly move faster."

Reluctantly, I pushed open the door and made my way out. I whirled around to watch  
her struggle with Izzy and lock the door at the same time. "Uh…need help?"

"Yes," she grunted, holding out a key to me. "Just turn it clockwise then let the  
door close."

I turned clockwise. Then counterclockwise.

"Thanks," she said and dashed down the street out of sight.

"Still got it." I grinned inwardly, reopened the door and slipped inside the shop.  
"Now to find the records."

I made a quick survey for any security cameras before striding to the very back.  
I inspected the counter again and this time, next to the cash register, I noticed a  
mini data processor.

In delight, I booted up the computer and scanned through the files for sales records.  
With a few flicks of my wrists, I whispered a self-congratulatory triumph at coming  
across a file named "Paublock Pendant". Once I jotted down the information on  
paper, I turned off the computer, took out a handy hairpin to turn the lock, and  
casually strolled out of Thurr's Pawn.

Thank goodness for dim-witted lizards, is all I can say.

The familiar afternoon heat was beginning to take its beat. Good thing my usual attire  
consisted of a pair of short shorts and a tank otherwise I would have been a big  
mess of Yuffie goo. I couldn't help but wonder how a certain black-clad man  
would manage in this town.

Today proved to be particularly scorching as my skin took on a faint tan. I had ten  
minutes to go before I reached the air-conditioned haven of my flat. What kept me  
moving without groaning was the fact that I had made some leeway with the case.  
My mood had shot back up knowing I could write up a report halfway.

I shielded my eyes from an unexpectedly bright gleam that made me temporarily lose  
vision. The farther I walked forward sent the inside me twirling and prancing in a  
maddening frenzy.

"Holy crapola, my bike!"

I scurried towards the sleek black vehicle shiningly proudly with its steering handle,  
cushioned seat, three power drives, and yes, buffed turbo boost engine. The platform  
glowed an iridescent blue with silver markings decorated the trim.

"I am forever in your debt, you cranky old geezer," I sputtered happily, scrambling  
unto the seat. I felt my butt practically melt into the surprisingly comfortable cushion.  
My hands roamed over every plane until it came across the key settled in the ignition  
slot, "Show me what you got, baby," turned it and pulled on the accelerator handle.  
"_Waaaaaahoooooooooooo!_"

Scenery whizzed by me as I vaulted high into the air and performed a celebratory  
loop-de-loop. God, I missed the rush of being hurtled above the horizon, endless to  
the core and utterly spine-tingling.

This bike came as the only accepted means of transportation I willingly chose to ride  
because, for some reason, the motion sickness monster had no effect on me here.  
Strange but true, like how some acrophobics do not mind riding roller coasters. Life  
before hover-bike had never seemed so bland.

Feeling frisky, I made a slight descend until I hovered low enough to ruffle hairs but  
high enough to match mid-rise buildings. Heads turned, skirts lifted, patio umbrellas  
shook, and a mild heart attack hit an old woman or two.

I know. I am one bitchin' air surfer. I could start calling myself a hot biker chick and  
get that sexy red leather jacket I saw on display last week, and maybe a sick tattoo  
across my lower back and – _Aiiiiieeeeeeeee!_

My foot slammed on the brake as I gave a hard jerk on the bike handles, sending the  
bike to arch upwards from jarring to a halt.

When the front of the bike swooped back down, I had Conformer ready to shave the  
head of the crockpot who lacked the brains to ruin my joyride. What stopped me  
short was a vision of red, black, and very distinct gold.

"Vincent!" I hollered at the man who had perched himself on top of a lamppost.  
"Have you gone masochist? You're damn lucky I got ninja reflexes or you'd be one  
flat vampy right now!"

Vampy merely glared at me. Boy, this sure brought back memories. If I had not been  
so preoccupied with the current state, I would have thought how nice it was to be on  
the receiving end of a Vincenty gaze again. Mostly revolving around me being Yuffie,  
him being Vincent, and the whole messed up shebang. "Where did you go?"

"Don't tell me you've gone blind too? I've gone biking, and I still would be if you  
hadn't parked yourself right there."

His glare fiercely doubled. "You have been gone for four hours."

"Doing the job you are paying me to do, no less," I countered.

"I told you I would be actively involved in this."

"Before you start getting your pants in a pinch, I did nothing but try to find a starting  
point since we did not have much to begin with in the first place. Which, thanks to  
my valiant efforts, turned out successful."

"Yuffie, we had a deal," he said roughly and I swore his red eyes took on an eerie  
lighter shade.

"What I did was trivial," I reassured. "I promise you did not miss out on anything  
big."

"No matter how insignificant it may be, I will not be exempted from it." His tone  
turned low, the words more fact than an order.

I sighed. "Alright, alright, I will include you in anything and everything. But don't  
go whining when we go to some gunk swamp and have to wade through fish poop."

"I hardly doubt it would come to that, Yuffie," he said dryly then made me start  
when he leapt above me and sprinted across the rooftops.

"Hey!" I called out, speeding after him, "where are you going?"

"Costa Inn," he answered without slowing his pace.

"What for? I assumed you wanted to take part in the info-finding?"

"You assume correctly. However, it would be inconvenient to have to travel back  
and forth frequently."

"So you're moving somewhere closer? Where?"

He shot me a glance over his shoulder, cool and stoic. "With you."

My day just keeps getting better and better.

TBC…

* * *

From the Desk of Scilja: 

Hello readers and welcome to my sad attempt at Final Fantasy VII fiction. Yuffie and Vincent are dynamic characters on their own and this plot just happened to roll off my head. As for the rating - M - I'm serious about that. For explicit language, eg. Cid, and for some mature scenes later on, if you know what I mean (nudge nudge wink wink ). So be sure you can take the heat and are within the limits of the legal policies.

I hope you all enjoy this ride with me, and I'll try not to screw your mind over - mind you I can make no guarantee about the latter.

I love reviews, comments and anything you would have to say. I do read every single one of them and will respond, so send your thoughts my way. Like how Yuffie should just knock Vinnie out, tie him out, and have her exquisite way with him already.

See you at the next chapter!


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